


Let It Snow

by Esperata



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas, Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff, Foxma (mentioned), Gobblepot (mentioned), M/M, Roommates, Singing, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: Following one acrimonious and one amenable split from their respective boyfriends, Oswald and Ed find themselves sharing an apartment.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 82
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inkfowl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkfowl/gifts).



“Thanks for doing this Lucius.” Jim helped him with his suitcase as he spoke, navigating the boxes strewn across the flat floor to deposit it outside the second bedroom. “Things with Oswald… weren’t panning out.”

“No.” Lucius couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow at that understatement. “The threats to feed you to the fish off the pier were a hint. Descriptive too. Guy’s got a vivid imagination.”

“He’s… emotional,” Jim explained somewhat defensively. “And when things were good, they were  _ really  _ good.”

“But when they were bad they were horrid,” Lucius concluded. “Yeah. It doesn’t sound healthy.”

The answering grimace told its own story.

“No. I thought it best to end it before the holidays started and we had too much time to be at each other’s throats. I like Oswald. Really. But we just clash on too many issues to ever have a quiet relationship. And frankly it's exhausting.”

“I hear you. Sometimes it's best to realise you’re better as friends before you grow to hate each other.”

The remark sounded too personal not to have some bearing on Lucius’ own relationship and Jim licked his lips nervously before asking, “I thought you and Ed got on well. I was surprised you suggested this swap.”

For a moment Lucius said nothing, just cast his eye speculatively over his belongings boxed throughout the room, as if mentally placing them all.

“Ed’s a good guy,” he answered cautiously. “And we were doing alright. But there were some… issues with boundaries.” At Jim’s surprised look Lucius hastened to explain. “Nothing too untoward, just… odd.”

“Oh?”

Jim didn’t want to pry,  _ really _ , but he couldn’t help but be curious about that comment. Obviously Lucius recognised he would fill in his own blanks and sighed in defeat.

“I’d wake up to find him watching me sleep.”

He turned it over in his mind but Jim struggled to see the problem there. Especially compared to some of the things he’d come home to find Oswald had done when he was in a hissy mood.

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” he hazarded.

“With a notebook?” Lucius countered. “He’d recorded my respiratory rate and compiled a list of sounds I’d apparently made. He wanted me to read it and see if I could recollect any words I might have spoken.”

“Okay that does sound odd.”

Lucius sighed again.

“I know he doesn’t mean any harm, and he just wants us to be close, but I also need him to understand the necessity of giving me space.”

“So you’re on a break?”

“I told him it was best if we each lived our own lives for a while. Hopefully he’ll learn to be a little less dependant.”

“Do you think he’ll be alright over there with Oswald?”

Truthfully Jim hadn’t given much thought to where Oswald was going, only that he’d agreed to switch apartments with Lucius.

“From what I hear of Oswald he won’t give Edward a second glance. They’ll probably just ignore each other.”

Jim nodded and refocused on the boxes in front of them. The mid winter light was fading already and ideally they’d want to get most of Lucius’ stuff sorted before dinner time. He moved to turn on the light. Then cursed loudly when nothing happened.

“Power cut?” Lucius queried, watching Jim step forward to stare up into the light shade.

“No. Damnit. Oswald’s taken the goddamn bulbs.”

To his credit, Lucius took that in stride, carefully considering events before reacting.

“I’d suggest you check the toilet rolls as well. And before the shops shut too.”

Jim’s eyes widened and he practically ran into the bathroom. His resulting yell was all the answer Lucius needed.

“Damnit Oswald!”

He grabbed his coat and prepared for an emergency shopping trip.


	2. Chapter 2

Oswald had refused Ed’s help when moving in. Asides from snapping at him to leave him alone, he hadn’t said two words to him. In fact, except for the plethora of products now competing for space in the bathroom, Edward would hardly even know he had a roommate at all. Not that he minded. His studies were engaging enough and he was well used to being on his own.

Though he did miss Lucius occasionally. Not just for the obvious boyfriend activities but also just for having someone who seemingly genuinely cared for him. Somebody to ask about his day or how his study was going. He didn’t blame him for leaving though. People always grew frustrated with him eventually and he was simply grateful to have had so much time together. Probably it was better in the long run to have a rent partner who didn’t spend enough time with him to get so irritated they wanted to leave. He couldn’t advertise for a new roommate every semester after all.

There was little chance of Oswald getting bored of him. Ed assumed he spent his days at college but he was also out late nearly every night. From what he could piece together from his attire and punctual departures, Ed assumed he had a job somewhere. That would make sense with the easy way he threw money into their household funds pot whenever Ed dared mention needing shopping. It also explained his fancy clothes.

Ed would freely admit that fashion was an area he had never taken much of an interest but even he could see that Oswald was stylish. Shoes perfectly polished, suit form fitting, and colours paired beautifully. He also had a fascinating face that Ed found himself staring at more often than appropriate. The nose was somewhat long and pointed but managed to look elegant on him. His eyes were highly expressive, conveying every word he never spoke to Ed in disdainful glances. And he had lips as fine as any marble sculpture. More than once Ed had tried to sketch him but the results were never satisfactory. Probably because he was working from memory. Once or twice he’d considered sneaking in while he slept to get an outline done but never quite dared.

Because while Edward might not have friends around the campus, that didn’t mean he didn’t hear things. And what he heard about Oswald was frankly terrifying. The rumours ranged from killing a guy for a sandwich to working for the Falcone crime family. He wasn’t sure how much of any of it was true but the idea of sharing a flat with an individual with such a reputation excited him. He knew it lent him an air of respect by association. People were generally being more considerate of him now Oswald was in the picture, so to speak. And he was happy enough with that.

So he was unusually content when he got home during winter break. He had a nice flat with a diligent roommate and no associations here with anything from his childhood. The only fly in the ointment this year was the lack of a boyfriend and briefly he eyed the empty room with a tinge of sadness. Then his eye fell on his piano and he smiled. It was his prized possession. A lucky find from an overheard conversation outside the music department. It had been damaged when he’d got it but careful work had restored it so it played as good as new, even if it looked a little beat up.

Sitting himself down, he allowed his hands to rest on the keys a minute. Being so busy during the semester he hadn’t had time to practice but now, with Oswald out and no work due for at least a fortnight, he could indulge again. Starting with some simple arpeggios, he felt the tension melt from his shoulders and muscle memory begin to kick in. Quickly he moved into other familiar tunes of the season: Silent Night, White Christmas and then O Christmas Tree.

"Ó karácsonyfa, O karácsonyfa. Nagyon kedvellek."

The unexpected voice startled Ed from his playing and he spun about in surprise.

“Oswald. I’m sorry.” He quickly pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I thought you were out.”

Oswald ignored his apology and moved further into the room, coming to sit on the end of the sofa from where he could see Ed better.

“Ms Mooney didn’t need me in tonight,” he answered, seemingly still quite distracted.

Edward nodded, storing the information in case he ever encountered the name again. To his memory he’d never heard of a Ms Mooney before. He realised too late that the silence might be awkward but before he could frame something suitable to say, Oswald spoke again.

“My mother used to sing that song with me. Every Christmas Eve. She had a gramophone record with that on one side and Kiskaracsony – Nagykaracsony on the other.”

Without thinking about it Ed turned back to the piano and ran through a verse of O Tannenbaum again. When the notes faded away though and Oswald said nothing, he licked his lips to break the silence.

“Will you be going home to see her this year?”

It seemed a reasonable question to ask but he could see at once from the change in Oswald’s face that he'd said something wrong.

“She’s dead,” Oswald practically spat, face contorting in an expression that looked like anger but which Ed concluded must be grief.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Oswald had turned to stare away from him and Ed floundered in the uncomfortable atmosphere. He had no idea how to comfort someone. He didn't even know how long it had been or what their relationship had been like.

“Would you like me to stop playing?” he offered.

A rough shake of the head was his only answer so he obligingly turned back and continued his repertoire. Initially he was conscious of having someone listening but soon he lost himself to the practice session, going over the various parts that caused him difficulty and running through pieces over and over until he got them right. By the time he recollected himself and came to a stop, he assumed Oswald had returned to his room. Certainly he was not where he had been. Yet as soon as Edward stood up he spotted him, fast asleep on the sofa and holding a cushion to his chest.

He contemplated waking him before deciding it was far better to leave him be. Therefore he stepped quietly closer and draped the throw down and across his small frame before tip toeing away.


	3. Chapter 3

“Fuck.”

Edward was significantly less startled by Oswald’s outburst now than he would have been a week ago. Since the incident with the piano Oswald had started talking to him as if they were friends. It was nice although he suspected it was simply because his flatmate was by nature a gregarious creature and missed the presence of his ex to monologue to. Regardless though he also allowed opportunities for Ed to ramble about whatever was on his mind, even if in all likelihood he didn’t follow a word of it.

What Ed had discovered in that time was that although Oswald did indeed have a volatile temper, it was also easy enough to distract him from a full blown tantrum. For that reason he wandered quite amiably, albeit hastily, from his bedroom to see what was the matter. Somewhat to his surprise all Oswald appeared to be doing was looking out the window.

“Something wrong?”

He received a terse look over the shoulder but no actual answer until he’d joined Oswald.

“See for yourself.”

“Oh my.”

It was clear now what had upset the other man. They’d both seen the forecasts the night before of a light snowfall but as usual the forecasters had got it wrong. Piles of snow had gathered in huge drifts making the street utterly impassable. Briefly Ed recognised the happy occurance of snow for Christmas before reflecting that for anyone still needing to travel their plans would be ruined. And a lot of people, for whatever reason, left going home until Christmas Eve. Including, obviously, his flatmate. He was thinking how to offer condolences when Oswald beat him to it.

“I’m sorry Edward. It looks like you won’t be able to get home.”

“ _ Me _ get home?” The concept honestly surprised him. “Surely  _ you’re  _ the one wanting to get home.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Oswald turned to him with a frown. “I told you about my mother.”

“Yes but I assumed you have other family.”

“No. It was always just us.”

“But… if you always intended staying… why didn’t you decorate?”

“Why didn’t you?” Oswald countered promptly, tilting his chin up in a sure sign of antagonism.

Ed had to glance away from the piercingly perceptive gaze.

“Honestly? Christmas has never held good memories for me. I tend to ignore it nowadays.”

“Oh.” He could hear the anger leaching away from his tone. “Actually, I can understand that. I mean, since my mother, it's never really been the same for me either.”

They both stood awkwardly silent, eyes drifting over the surfaces which suddenly looked unnaturally bare.

“I suppose,” Oswald began tentatively. “If we’re both staying, we could have a go at having our own sort of Christmas.”

“How?” Edward challenged almost dismissively. “We can’t get anything to decorate with now, even if the stores still had anything.”

For a moment he thought that would be that, and he almost felt disappointed, but then Oswald grinned deviously.

“How are you with wiring?” he unexpectedly asked.

Which was how they found themselves a couple of hours later with a fully lit tree made from an assortment of bulbs fixed through a door panel that Oswald had apparently found lying about down in the laundry room. While Edward had been busy repurposing wires and fitments from some discarded science projects, Oswald had stolen his leftover green paint from where Ed had decorated his bedroom to render the outline.

As they stood back to admire their morning’s work, Ed still couldn’t quite ignore the question niggling at the corner of his mind.

“I still don’t understand why you had a whole box of bulbs in your bedroom.”

“I took them when I left Jim,” Oswald answered distractedly, his attention clearly elsewhere. Then he snapped his fingers abruptly. “It needs a topper. A star or something. Do you have anything?”

Ed broke away from his surprise at learning of the vindictive theft and refocused on the tree. It looked bright and festive but Oswald was right. It didn’t look complete yet. He tapped his lip in thought momentarily before snapping his own fingers in turn.

“One minute.”

He hurried off without saying anything further and returned less than 60 seconds later with a bowler hat. Ignoring Oswald’s unimpressed stare he grinned triumphantly and placed it reverently in pride of place.

“Ed,” Oswald spoke slowly. “You can’t use a hat as a tree topper.”

“Why not?” He tilted his own chin defiantly. “You said we’d be doing things differently.”

“Yes but it hardly matches the theme.”

“Well then, why don’t you take it down?”

Edward hid his smile as Oswald moved instinctively to do just that before realising the obvious problem. The shorter man glared up at the out of reach annoyance before deciding discretion was the better part of valour.

“It can stay for now. I’m hungry. Let’s get lunch.”

As Oswald moved to the fridge to find whatever he wanted, a new problem arose in Edward’s mind.

“Oswald. What about dinner tomorrow? I know for a fact we don’t have anything we can roast. And even if we could afford it we can't-”

“I’ll make  halászlé,” he was interrupted dismissively. “It’s a traditional Christmas dish in Hungary.” Almost immediately he looked up with concern. “How are you with spicy food?”

Ed ignored that in favour of his primary question.

“You can cook?”

“Soup’s hardly cooking but yes. I’ll have you know I’m a very competent cook. When I’m of the mood to. And with certain dishes.”

“How about dessert?” Ed challenged with a smile, walking over to start making himself a sandwich as well.

“Ah. Baking isn’t exactly my forte,” he admitted, smearing spicy mustard in his own sandwich.

“Well, perhaps if you do the soup, I could make us some type of dessert. Any idea what we have in the way of ingredients?”

Truthfully Ed tended to focus on the few staples he knew he liked. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t try new things, but generally it was far simpler not to risk disappointment.

“Could you make pastry rolls? I know we have the stuff for that. Although I’m not sure what we could fill them with.”

“What’s traditional?” Ed asked, correctly guessing this was another childhood memory Oswald was drawing on.

“Walnuts. Or poppy seeds. Something like that.”

“I have almonds,” he offered.

“Perfect!”

They settled themselves on the sofa, contentedly eating and looking with unabashed pride at their tree. Although Ed could see the frown beginning to form as Oswald’s eyes flickered up again to the topper. He therefore interrupted before it could be challenged again.

“Is it true you fought a nightclub bouncer?”

His question had the desired result of bringing Oswald’s attention back to him.

“Now where did you hear that?”

“From Lucius.” He winced slightly at the name. “He heard it from Jim so I assume it's true.”

Apparently the mention of past boyfriends also got to Oswald as he frowned too.

“Yes. And I got a right lecture from him about it too.”

“Really? Why?”

“He said I shouldn’t have let it get to me.” A sneer twisted his lips. “That I should have just ignored it.”

“Ignored what?”

Oswald let out a heavy sigh and Ed anticipated being told to mind his own business or stop asking so many questions. It was a relief therefore when Oswald merely calmed himself and began explaining.

“Butch works for Fish Mooney, same as I do, but where I’m her factotum he’s purely muscle. No brain at all. Anyway, his puerile mind decided my odd proportions and habit of dress resembled a penguin. So that’s what he calls me.  _ All  _ the time. It's infuriating!”

His fists clenched at the memory but Ed was still focused on the scenario. 

“And so you fought him? And won?”

“Well,” -what Ed took to be a bashful blush flushed his cheeks- “I didn’t exactly beat him to a pulp like I wanted to but I walked away. Sort of. He bust my ankle out of joint. It still pops occasionally.”

“That’s still impressive. Why was Jim upset?”

“Because I resorted to violence.” Oswald shrugged in a clear effort to show he wasn’t bothered before muttering, “As if he never threw a punch in anger.”

“But with someone like that,” Ed interjected. “A common thug by the sounds of it, violence really is the only language they understand. I imagine he respects you all the more for taking him on.”

“Exactly!” Oswald turned with the light of vindication in his eyes. “He nods to me now when I arrive for work. Still calls me Penguin though,” he added with an aggrieved tone.

Edward hummed thoughtfully at that.

“You know what you should do?” he suggested. “You should own the name. Take his power to insult with it away. Make him remember that the Penguin was someone who took him on without fear.”

Oswald tilted his head in consideration.

“You may actually have a point there. I’ll take it under consideration.”

He smiled at Edward then, warmly and without hesitation, and Ed was reminded of how much he wanted to capture his likeness. Just as he was now. Coughing abruptly he turned away lest any such wish was revealed on his face.

“How about a festive film?” he proposed instead.

“I didn’t think we had any.” Oswald glanced over at their meagre collection of movies.

Edward actually scoffed at that and went to retrieve what he was thinking of.

“We only have the  _ best  _ Christmas movie of all time,” he declared, showing his choice dramatically.

It drew a laugh out of his friend.

“Die Hard.” He nodded. “A perfect choice.”

As Edward knelt to set up, he couldn’t help but grin to himself. Already it was a far better Christmas than he’d ever had and it was still only Christmas Eve. For once he knew he’d go to bed excited about the day to come.


	4. Chapter 4

For the first time Edward could remember, Christmas day dawned and he actually felt happy about it. Having someone to share it with made it feel like he was finally living the dream sold through the festive media. He’d rather excitedly pulled together what constituted a lavish breakfast for them before realising Oswald might not be thinking the same way. However that worry was scotched when Oswald meandered in and smiled in genuine pleasure at the odd assortment of goods upon the table.

They enjoyed playing make believe for a while that this was actually a hotel breakfast and roundly trashing the poor quality of everything which led them into a wishful discussion of where they’d like to go and what they’d like to do. Usually Ed wouldn’t indulge in such flights of fancy but in the moment it didn’t feel so impossible as usual and he enjoyed waxing lyrical about the sites of antiquity he wanted to visit. To his surprise, Oswald was less enamoured with the prospect of travel. When questioned he merely shrugged and suggested he preferred hearing about it to actually going.

As breakfast came to its end, Oswald made for the bathroom leaving Ed to clear up, pointing out that he’d chosen to get so many things out so it was up to him to tidy them away. Edward held his tongue but resolved to make sure Oswald did the same with whatever he used for their promised lunch. Since he knew Oswald would take at least an hour, and possibly more given it was a special day, he didn’t wait around but made a start on the pastry so it could rest before cooking.

Oswald was actually nearer two hours but Ed was struck immediately by the fact he’d not only dressed in his usual high style, albeit sans tie and jacket thus displaying his glittering green cufflinks, but also gone to town on his make up. It made his eyes pop and Ed got distracted briefly by the wish to count every long lash. He covered his flustered reaction by fleeing into the bathroom himself and mentally running through nonsense poems until he could focus again. If he tried to make an effort on his own appearance as well then it was only on behalf of the Christmas spirit.

By the time he returned to the kitchen Oswald was well ahead in preparing the  halászlé and any distraction Ed might have felt over his looks was washed away by his horror at the state the kitchen was in already. Despite himself he began clearing up and scolding the smaller man for his atrocious habits. Not that Oswald cared. If anything he seemed to take delight in deliberately and provocatively placing dirty spoons on surfaces Ed had just cleaned. The challenge in his eyes as he did so ignited a similar feeling in Ed and he picked up the latest offensive utensil with a wicked gleam before launching himself at Oswald.

Edward had to concede that, weak ankle or not, Oswald was quick. And gifted with the ability to think on his feet as was proved by his seeming ability to lead Ed into practically cornering himself as the smaller man slipped away from his grasp. Finally though Ed managed to latch his long arms about his waist and Oswald let out an adorable squeak of surprise.

“No! Let me go!” His demand would have had more force to it if he hadn’t giggled part way through.

“Not until you promise to behave better.”

“Or what?” Oswald challenged over his shoulder. “Are  _ you  _ going to make me?”

The intimacy and innuendo of their position suddenly struck Edward and he couldn’t stop his rising blush. Nor could he find words to reply. Perhaps thankfully, Oswald’s next yelp was pitched entirely differently.

“Shit! The soup!”

As Oswald shoved at his arms this time Ed let him go and gained some much needed space to get himself under control. Luckily the soup was fine and the uncomfortable moment was easily forgotten as they prepared the table and sat for their first Christmas lunch together. Truthfully he found the halászlé too spicy for his liking but copious amounts of bread both offset the spice and helped substantiate the meal.

Oswald turned quite garrulous over lunch, apparently prompted by the well remembered taste into recounting memories of Christmases past. Ed didn’t mind, finding it quite fascinating to learn so much about him. He’d always assumed from his demeanor that Oswald hadn’t known poverty but seemingly that was quite wrong. He and his mother had to make do and mend most of their lives. Which he supposed explained why Oswald was so grasping for anything that came his way now.

When the meal was done, Ed asked Oswald to tell him how to properly make the beigli. He expected to simply receive instruction since Oswald had done the work on the soup but instead he stood and joined him, perhaps in gratitude for Edward cleaning up after him before. So while Ed rolled out the pastry, Oswald began to grind and then simmer the almonds.

"This is nice," Oswald said apropos of nothing.

Edward ducked his head slightly awkwardly. He couldn’t help but hear a touch of surprise in the tone.

"I do  _ try _ ," he said before adding apologetically. "I never mean to make things weird."

“What?” Oswald turned to him. “You’re not weird. Or certainly no weirder than anyone else. It's just you’re more honest. It catches people out.” He gave a shrug and looked back to the saucepan.

“Oh.”

He was considering whether to take that as a compliment or not when Oswald added more quietly.

“I like honesty. It's really rather rare.”

Without giving Edward a chance to react to that statement he pulled the hot pan from the stove and hip bumped the taller man out of his way. Ed let him take charge of the dessert and simply basked in the warmth of friendship he felt in that moment. Oswald nimbly spread the filling and rolled the pastry before depositing the tray in the oven and returning his attention to Ed.

“I’ve been meaning to apologise,” he offered, once again catching Ed off guard. “I haven’t got you a Christmas present.”

Something about the almost nervous way he’d lowered his eyes obviously derailed any sense of propriety Ed may have had and he answered without thinking.

"Let me draw you."

“What?” Those damnable eyelashes fluttered as Oswald glanced up with a smile. “You want to draw me?”

“Yes,” Ed confirmed, his memory snagging on the compliment of honesty still.

“Well. If it will give you pleasure.” Oswald’s smile lingered. “How do you want me?”

The acceptance short circuited Ed’s mind momentarily until he readjusted and smiled brightly in return.

“Right over here.” He excitedly moved across to their dominant window and gestured for Oswald to follow him. “You’ll sit there. In that corner. With the light from the other side it will be perfect.”

He continued to arrange both Oswald and his surroundings even as his mouth disconnected from his brain and rambled on about techniques and opinions on art. Oswald seemed fairly bemused at first but soon settled into his role as model, clutching the required mug and turning his face to reach the perfect poise. The only time he interrupted was to remind Edward to turn the oven off but other than that he accepted his position gracefully.

Edward completely lost himself to his sketches, taking copious small drawings of individual features even while working mostly on a main image of Oswald as a whole. It was possible he’d have stayed there indefinitely if the light hadn’t dimmed to an impossible degree, reminding him that the short winter’s day was coming to an end.

“Have you done enough for now?” Oswald asked in a tone either mocking or fond, Ed couldn’t be sure.

Either way he rather reluctantly nodded, realising that he couldn’t reasonably ask the man to stand there all night.

“Good because I really want to try our beigli.”

He left and Ed briefly looked at his treasured sketches. They’d never match the real thing but if he couldn’t have that then these were the next best thing. The realisation that he wanted Oswald that way didn’t startle him so much as it struck him with resignation. Wanting people who were out of his league was by now too familiar not to be accepted with equanimity.

“Oh my God! Edward. You have to try these.”

The distraction of food helped bring his mood back into enjoying what he had and he left his notebook out of sight to avoid thinking any such thoughts again. However seeing Oswald so happy as he chewed his baked treat sent a flash of guilt through him as something else struck him.

“I’m sorry Oswald. I never even thought but I don’t have anything to give you either.”

Oswald opened his mouth to say something but immediately snapped it shut again. On the one hand Ed respected his better ability to hold back whatever ridiculousness was about to fall out but on the other he wished he could have that sneaky look into his brain.

“You don’t have to give me anything. Today’s already been a gift.”

Something about the trite platitude, or possibly something in his flickering glance, told Ed that actually there was something and he risked pressing a little.

“Honestly, if there’s something you want, you only have to ask. After all, I made you sit like a statue for hours. It’s only fair.”

His remark brought a laugh out of Oswald and Ed’s spirits soared at the sound.

"In that case,” Oswald began hesitantly before squaring his shoulders and staring up at him. “Play for me again?"

Ed blinked at the unexpected request and Oswald obviously interpreted that as a need to explain himself.

“My mother and I always had music at Christmas. We’d sing and play her record over and over. Obviously you don’t have to but-”

“Of course Oswald,” Ed interrupted. “I’d be happy to.”

The glowing look he received for that made every sad Christmas worthwhile and he moved quickly across to the piano before he did something to ruin it. Settling himself in he quickly ran over some scales to relax and then opened his music book. Remembering Oswald’s prior comment on his playing he selected O Tannenbaum first. After playing through one verse though he hesitated.

“Why don’t you sing?” he suggested quietly.

“It wouldn’t be the same,” Oswald answered softly. “Unless… Edward, would you sing it with me?”

“Only if you don’t mind it in English.” He was glad Oswald couldn’t see his smile.

“Not at all my friend.”

He started the song again and this time they chimed in together with the lyrics. It was a little awkward at first but a glance to Oswald showed how much he appreciated the activity so Edward threw caution to the winds and decided to indulge them both with a full recital. Before very long they were both having a merry time singing songs and remembering boyish lyric alterations.

Sometime through a foolishly sombre and unnecessarily serious rendition of We Three Kings, Ed realised Oswald’s giggles had quieted and he glanced back to find the man once again asleep on the sofa. With a smile he switched tracks back to O Tannenbaum before reluctantly conceding the day was over. Pausing only to once again drape the throw over the sleeping form he caved to the impulse to place a kiss upon his forehead. Oswald mumbled vaguely but didn’t wake, and Edward snuck off to his own bed with hopes of pleasant dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

The temptation proved too much when Ed awoke just before dawn to see Oswald perfectly poised on the sofa to catch the morning light. Despite telling himself that he would only use the opportunity to fill in the missing details from his sketches of the day before, it was too hard to resist the chance to garner some additional baselines. Especially since he couldn't understand why it could be construed as improper. He made sure not to lay so much as a finger upon the other man even though that made counting his pulse impossible. Counting his freckles however was perfectly doable. As was monitoring his eye movement and estimating the length of his lashes.

He was in the midst of averaging the breath rate from his counts when Oswald interrupted him.

“Am I that fascinating asleep?”

Ed slammed his notebook shut and tried to hide it behind his back.

“Oswald! Um,” -he tried to rise from his kneeling position but felt his balance teeter and gave up- “I was just going to wake you.”

A yawn delayed any answer as Oswald swung himself upright but then he wrinkled his nose and blinked suspiciously at him.

“What were you writing?”

“Nothing,” Ed lied quickly. Far too quickly to be believable and Oswald arched a disbelieving eyebrow.

“It can’t be  _ that  _ embarrassing surely,” he pressed. His brow furrowed. “You weren’t writing erotica were you?”

“What? No!” Ed sighed in defeat and brought his notebook back into view. “I was just filling in some details on yesterday’s drawing.”

“No you weren't,” Oswald argued at once. “You were writing, not drawing. Tell me the truth Edward.” He grinned. “Were you writing porn?”

Edward flushed both from the salacious suggestion and from being caught out.

“No,” he insisted again before relenting. “I was calculating your respiratory rate.”

“Oh.” Oswald didn’t seem to know what to make of that. “Why?”

“So I have a baseline for comparison. In case you get ill.”

He received a surprise blink at that explanation.

“Does that mean you’re worried in case I get sick?”

“Of course. You’re my friend Oswald. I want to be able to take care of you properly if you need me to.”

“Which means knowing what’s a normal breathing rate? I suppose in case I get congested?”

“Exactly!” Ed smiled, happy to be understood, before shrinking back into himself worriedly. “I’m sorry if that weirds you out.”

“Why should that weird me out? It sounds a very considerate thing to do.”

It was probably the thrill of not being chastised that made Ed suddenly careless.

“I’d have taken your temperature and pulse as well but I didn’t want to do anything invasive without permission.”

That brought a laugh out of Oswald and he gave Ed a look he couldn’t quite interpret.

“Well. I very much appreciate you not sticking a thermometer anywhere without asking first. But,” -he tilted his head consideringly- “you can take my pulse if you like.”

So saying he extended an arm and Ed was momentarily rendered immobile. Briefly all he could focus on was the missing cufflink and wondered whether Oswald had awoken and removed them or if they’d need to check down the back of the sofa for them later. Then the arm began to retreat and he darted into motion, catching it lightly and inhaling before rolling the sleeve back slightly. He daren’t look up as he delicately held what felt to be the most fragile object he’d ever had in his hands and kept his gaze firmly on his own watch. He could hear his own breath and it sounded unreasonably loud suddenly in the quiet room. He hoped Oswald couldn’t hear it too. Briefly he tried to mitigate the sound by changing from breathing out of his nose but that only seemed to make everything worse. In desperation he spoke to cover the noise.

"Are you planning on getting back with Jim?"

He snapped his mouth shut in horrified mortification and the blush he’d fought down rose back with a vengeance. His only hope was that Oswald wouldn’t realise why he’d asked such a personal question but he didn’t risk trying to meet his gaze nonchalantly. Subterfuge had never been his forte.

"No. I don't think so," Oswald spoke carefully. "Don't get me wrong, he's hot. But I'm beginning to realise I'd like more than that. I want someone who's not just attractive but who understands me. Who I can be myself with and have fun with. Someone I can rely on. Someone  _ honest _ ."

The emphasis wasn't lost on Edward but he hesitated to draw the conclusion he wanted from it. Things that appeared too good to be true usually were in his experience. Coughing awkwardly he briskly rolled down Oswald’s sleeve again and moved himself back onto his ankles.

"Is there a Hungarian tradition of pulling tricks on Boxing Day?" he asked faux casually with as natural a glance as he could manage in the circumstances.

Oswald sighed and stood abruptly upright.

"Dance with me," he said unexpectedly.

"What?"

Edward struggled to his own feet, accidently bumping the table as he did so. Oswald took the opportunity to move into a clearer space.

"Dance with me," he repeated clearly, staring expectantly over at him.

"There's no music." Ed gave a rather useless gesture to the silent piano.

"Yes there is. I can hear it. It's just faint. Now will you dance with me or not?"

Although Oswald put a demanding lilt to his voice even he couldn’t quite hide the trepidation in his expression. That more than anything broke Edward’s resolve. Swallowing hard himself, Ed simply angled his arms and positioned himself in lieu of a verbal answer to accept Oswald's proposal. The shorter man visibly straightened his back before moving into the offered embrace and wrapping his own hands up about Ed’s shoulders.

It was apparent neither really knew how to dance and they simply rocked together in a gentle rhythm. To his surprise Ed found the activity strangely calming. Having a warm body so close was comforting, especially with the scent of him beneath his nose. Glancing down Ed could see Oswald’s normally carefully styled hair was simply tufts of unruly bedhead. It was rare to see him in such an unguarded state and the euphoria of not only being trusted with the vision but encouraged to hold him as he did do so sent a wave of affection through him. Without thinking, he tipped his head down and buried his nose in the soft hair.

"Will you please be my boyfriend?" Oswald asked quietly into his shirt.

Edward squeezed him slightly tighter in response before finding his own voice.

“I’d be honoured.”

He could feel the release of tension in the shoulders under his arms but still panicked slightly as Oswald shifted out from under them. Then he saw his smiling face looking up at him, and felt his hand shift over to cup his cheek, and everything made sense. Leaning down with the guiding help of that hand, his lips found Oswald’s and he pressed as sincere a kiss as he could manage onto them. The sparkle in Oswald’s glittering eyes suggested his message had been received and welcomed, especially since Oswald brought his other hand into play to stop Ed from pulling away, allowing his own lips to press heated kisses across Edward’s in turn.

It might have been fanciful but in that moment Ed really did believe he could hear music in the air. Bells ringing joyously for new love found and blessed. A song for them that he hoped would never stop.


End file.
